


If You're Alone Tonight

by helena_s_renn



Category: Def Leppard, Greta Van Fleet (Band), Music RPF
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, oral sex in shower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23600668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helena_s_renn/pseuds/helena_s_renn
Summary: Watching the kid sleep curled at his side, the dead sleep of the young, the scent of their unnatural mating still heavy in their air, something caught inside him...
Relationships: Joe Elliott (Def Leppard)/Josh Kiszka
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. Out of Touch, Out of Reach

**Author's Note:**

> *Another crosspost from RF just because... who knows.  
> *The very gracious fairy11 of RF didn't mind me playing in her sandbox. Her fic, "Red Light, Yellow Light, Green light... Go!" inspired this one.  
> *The usual song lyric silliness...  
> *This fic is told from Joe's POV. It's not a parallel to the one mentioned above; it's many months later.  
> *Whatever it sounds like, any seeming unflattering comments are simply my own observations and it doesn't lessen my respect of either man or their bands.  
> *Bill is an OC from the original arc, "Red Light, Yellow Light, Green Light, Go!"—Joe's long-time driver.

-2019, late autumn, Las Vegas

"I miss you so much." The picture on Josh's account nearly named itself. The kid was looking back, his hair a shambles. The grid of tiny thumbnails lied, his true expression seeming to be one of distress, loss or need rather than anger as he'd first thought.

And then the latest. How a few months had changed him. Josh looked young still, of course he did. By now Joe knew he was 23. Millennials were so different than he and his contemporaries had been in their early 20s, already aged beyond their years by factory jobs or other menial labor.

And that was part of the draw, wasn't it? Those boys, with their almond milk-fed, wholesome, never had so much as a part time job, neo-hippie vibe... but oozing sexuality because they were young men, after all. Joe had returned to the most recent pics a hundred times. He preferred this side of the person he'd chosen as a lover: looking like not-a-little-boy. Stubble showing, his un-groomed eyebrows like two haphazard splices of electrical tape, staring straight into the camera with a 'fuck-you, fuck-off' certainty. From this remove, it seemed to Joe like he was spying on someone he'd never met.

Didn't mean he didn't want to have full access to the lad, to strip him naked and drag him off somewhere to have his way.

He'd rung a few weeks before to arrange another 'meeting', what was to be their fourth hook-up. So much careful research, using whatever charm and authority he had at his disposal as Joe-fucking-Elliott to get access to schedules and plans. Turned out the little fucker had told his brother - probably his entire band, Joe knew there were no secrets in that situation - about him after the first time. He was not pleased. That was on him, though. He'd picked the kid out of the pack of new rising stars, had presented himself, carefully pursued for the space of an evening, gotten him drunk, lured him back to his room, and fucked the budding little bisexual good and proper.

He hadn't intended the feelings that came. Watching the kid sleep curled at his side, the dead sleep of the young, the scent of their unnatural mating still heavy in their air, something caught inside him and all he wanted was more - of the attitude and smooth perfect skin, Josh's swagger and his round little arse and the wails he gave up while Joe rooted his almost virginal hole and made him cream the sheets. He had to have it again and again.

So yeah, he was bonafide rock royalty now, which meant less than nothing to those kids. The relief and pleasure at hearing Josh's stuttering confirmations at been almost sexual. Somehow, somehow, something had sparked in Josh, too. He wanted what Joe was offering, too, and they continued.

But not like this!

What a gullible old twat Joe had been to think the kid could keep to his terms. Those were very necessary terms. This was Joe's life they were talking about here. True, a 23-year-old single, childless (assuming) man couldn't possibly grasp the ramifications even if he intellectually understood. Again, it was Joe's fault for thinking with the wrong head. It didn't mean he had to like the consequences, namely Josh appearing out of thin air in his Las Vegas dressing room.

And goddamnit all, he liked it too much! Seeing Josh's face and body online had brought on a few good wanks. In person, Joe was immediately swelling in his already revealing black leather jeans despite the old hair-trigger temper that flared. He could control one if not the other. Cold as ice, he ordered Josh to leave and not come back, putting his commandeered driver on notice that he would be sacked if the removal was not immediate, discreet, and Josh' presence untraceable.

Clearly this was not the welcome Josh expected. His face fell, shoulders slumped, and he turned away. But a moment later, as Joe and Bill stood at a 'stranger' distance down the backstage hallway from Josh, his backbone straightened. He was pissed.

Joe had been expecting that night, the last show of their Vegas run to be the crowning glory of the 2019 tour season. Entirely distracted, it seemed like the first song of the gig was a series of sour notes and missed cues. After that though, he was on fire, alive with the remembered passion, the torn-in-two disparity of wanting the forbidden, which had landed semi-publicly at his doorstep, and the adrenaline-hormone-ego rush of a successful show. He'd done everything to showcase every band member, even had let Viv and Phil share the lead vocals on Hysteria, climbed the drum riser despite his aching back and trick knee, for once in the last ten years embraced Sav on stage and let the weeping fans in the front rows eat that shit up. Anything to distract himself. He was kicking his own arse, too. A professional what? And for what percentage of his life?

Immediately following the show, Joe recorded his little "Captain's Log, Stardate" vlog in muted tones, thanked the fans and his band as always, and escaped the venue. They'd be flying home the next day. All of the wives had left after opening night. Belatedly, Joe's sense of relief over that fact surfaced, followed by another wave of something like belligerence over the invasion of his territory, the exploitation of risk. Immediately after, the image of Josh's face not a metre from him, first... so happy, joyful, shining. Then upset and humiliated... god, he'd done that! Taken down and trod on the exuberance of a person he thought he was beginning to care about. What was the matter with him?

Imagine his surprise.

Joe dragged his sweaty, sticky old arse up to his suite, fumbled open the lock, and found Josh waiting for him. The black leather couch he was sitting on, one floor lamp on at dim light spotlighting him, was too much of a flashback. Pulling up abruptly, Joe remembered to walk inside and close the door behind him before opening his mouth.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. It sounded rude. Really, he just wanted the facts, like how Josh could stand to look at him after the pre-show brush-off. He'd seen the vids, he knew his hair looked like an old straw broom and his cheeks were flushed in the pattern of a lifelong drunk at this point of the evening.

"Wine?" was Josh's reply. First Joe noticed it, an open bottle of wine, a glass half-full in Josh's hand, pale, pale beige-gold, and empty another goblet on the coffee table.

"A fifth of Scotch might be better," Joe finally said.

"I can call room service--"

"Don't bother. Now answer me: what are you doing here?" Here was exactly what he wanted, who he wanted to spend his night with, and he was going to fuck it up again.

Josh's heavy eyebrows came together. "Bill said you're full of shit, and pointed me to the set manager, who knew a concierge, who knew the somalier. Very pretty. Very... thirsty. It didn't take much to get in here." His hand moved an inch or two in the direction of his lap.

"Yeah well that's 'who' - who helped you, and that arsehole is so fired. Not 'why'."

Setting his goblet down, Josh stood up and walked toward Joe, slowly like he was approaching a wild, wounded beast. "Why? Because I missed you. I want you. Again, like before. Well, I did. You're being a colossal prick, you know." His eyes flicked to Joe's zipper and back up again, a deliberate, almost insolent move.

Joe stared down at him. He had not remembered accurately, how short Josh was. How slight, although the pictures online revealing more muscle to his upper body hadn't lied. "Realleh. I've told you how things have to be, and why. You can't respect that?"

"I made sure you were alone. You know what I mean. Your... family. I had help, you said it yourself." Josh took a deep breath. "You guys have other musicians visit you on tour all the time, I've seen the pictures. That's all it had to be, at the show. Instead, you pull all this melodramatic shit. What the fuck, Joe?"

No, this wasn't going to work, forget how the soft, hairless skin revealed by Josh's half-open shirt and his carelessly tousled, longer curls and the visible two-day beard growth were all making Joe's fingers tingle. Josh could WTF him all he wanted. What Joe feared was that anyone, everyone could have seen it on his face that this wasn't just a 'fellow musician' drop-in. He said abruptly, "I'm taking a shower," and turned his back.


	2. When You Get That Feeling, Better Start Believing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naturally, Josh isn't going anywhere but into that shower. He reached out to take one of the glasses. "Open your mouth lad, drink."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut alert for this and future chapters. Not your thing, don't read. Refer to Chapter 1 for any warnings.

God help him, he didn't lock the bathroom door. Joe got undressed while he ran hot water in the glassed-in shower stall to cover the sounds. It took a good while, compared to the five-second strip-downs of his youth. When the glass surround was sufficiently steamed, Joe, by then undressed with his clothes kicked to the far corner, took a piss, and stepped inside. "You and me, babe, hey hey!" 'None of that', he chided himself.

Out of the corner of his eye, Joe caught movement. Ah. He knew it. Or had he? It didn't seen to matter. The door to the bathroom opened, letting in a gust of cooler air and someone Joe couldn't see clearly. A moving combination of shapes in tan and brown shades, no clothes to cover any of it, entered the room. Josh's voice reached him through the fog. "I'm coming in. This is the last time I'll give you a pass on your affronted, parental bullshit. I don't want a father, or a daddy." Joe could feel his hackles rise, this young bloke telling him off. But then, he sure as hell didn't want a son nor even a protégé. As for the latter, Josh was already beyond all that.

"We agree. Come in."

When Josh stepped in, it was without an ounce of shyness. Like the first time, Joe was immediately drawn to not only his face and body but the look in his eyes - determined, full of want, a bit of defiance - and his confidence. He held two wine glasses, his fingers twined around the stems, and offered one to Joe as soon he was in and had pulled the shower door shut with his free hand. 

"Maybe I should have warned you, but I was sure you'd say no since it wasn't your idea." 

Joe already had his mouth open to protest. 

"Looks like I was right," Josh spoke over him. 

"Well... you're here now." More carefully, and more exactingly, certainly more lovingly, Joe ran his eyes down Josh's body and up again. He reached out to take one of the glasses. "Open your mouth lad, drink."

After a semi-awkward cusp of a moment, Josh, velvet-bright eyes trained on Joe's face, tipped his head back and opened his mouth. Good, thought Joe, he was trusting enough to follow direction without asking twenty questions he couldn't answer.

Joe tipped his glass into Josh's mouth, watching the boy's full lips purse, touch the glass, curve around the edge of it. Liquid entered his mouth and he swallowed, throat working as Joe tipped the goblet a little more. Then he finished it off himself. The wine was good, more sweet than dry, properly chilled. They really shouldn't be guzzling it but in here neither had the wherewithal to draw it out. Appropriating Josh's glass, Joe repeated the process. "Here, put these down out of the way," he requested. Josh gave him a look. He knew why, confirmed when the little singer turned slowly displaying himself. Damn, but that arse was a semicircle, Joe thought. Even in their prime, no one in his band had an arse like that.

The act of bending over directly in front of him was so utterly contrived that Joe wanted to laugh. Laugh or get it on now. Granted, the only safe resting place for glassware was the floor, but Josh could have bent in some other manner, or squatted down. But no. He had to make sure Joe saw his arsecrack parted and his tiny hole displayed, the shadow of his balls below like some secret treasure. If he hadn't been already, Joe would have broken out in sweat. His cock decided half-mast was good and rose, lengthwise expansion revealing a pink tip that was still so sensitive.

That wasn't all. The steam was making Josh's entire body shine. The warmth, or the possibility of sex, or simply being young, had made him hard, so very helplessly erect. Joe pointedly examined the darker flesh almost visibly rising to meet him. The last time, he'd had his hands all over Josh, who had been eager to be touched and teased and pleasured.

Curious eyes behind dark lashes raked him, too, and honestly, Joe didn't want to know what Josh saw between love handles, spare tyre, muscle on his limbs that still existed but not so taut anymore, deep lines on his face and neck, other features that came with age. Even the best personal trainers, chefs, and a drawer full of vitamins and supplements couldn't stop the march of time. Slow, even backtrack it for a little while with rest and exercise, but not stop. Backing into the shower spray, Joe tipped his own head back so his hair was completely wetted down. He'd been tense; hot water melted it somewhat. Unconsciously, he shut his eyes.

When he opened them again, Josh was so close that any shift in posture would bring them into contact. Joe startled a little, and then laughed. "Alright then. I won't deny how much I want you, too. Colossal prick or not."

"I may have been out of line," Josh admitted. He peered up into Joe's face, as if he were acclimating himself. "I like your hair like that."

He didn't acknowledge it, but the casual compliment sent a rush of blood south.

They weren't exactly face to face. Besides the difference in height, Josh was standing a bit to the side. Looking down after his reference, Joe saw that the tip of Josh's erection was slotted between his thighs. To that end, he shifted to bring his feet a little closer together. Both of them groaned in different registers when his legs closed around that gorgeous dick. It wasn't quite the size of his but very nice, Joe saw that too. There was plenty of light in here, different than before when they did it in the almost dark and his nearsightedness left some things to the imagination. The kid was uncut; Joe silently thanked his parents again for that and pulled him forward, close. "You probably want to come off fast. There's always more later. Warning you, I'm good for a round. Maybe one more in the morning if we're lucky."

"So I can stay the night?" Josh looked up, looked him in the eyes as if he were trying to stare Joe into submission. Good luck with that!

But Joe had to humour him a little. "Aye. I think that's what we both want. You're here now, might as well stay." Not only holding Josh now, he slid both hands in different directions up and down his back, one cupping his half-moon cheek, the other coming up to his shoulder to explore the muscle with such silky soft skin covering.

"Yes," Josh breathed out. It was the first suggestion that he might have been nervous at all. As much as his confidence turned Joe on, this aspect had its appeal as well. Unguarded moments, they were the ones that stuck with a person over time and distance.

Arms went around him, too. Suddenly Joe's instinct to crush Josh to him roared so strong that he barely held back his full strength in time. He needed a taste and bent his head down to meet lips just waiting for him, full and sweet. A tongue licked across the seam of his mouth, which he chased with his own into the heated wine-and-Josh flavoured space between Josh's teeth.

But it was the next thing that killed him: from the little shelf to the side, Josh had appropriated shower gel. A glop of it landed on his chest. Stepping back a few inches, Josh... washed him. First his chest, where the pelt of hair and his teeny but - surprise! - hard nipples were thoroughly explored with curious fingers. Then lower, the non-avoidance of areas Joe would rather not think about almost as arousing as when he went lower yet and grasped Joe's dick, by now almost fully erect.

While Joe's hands had remained on Josh, they had kept to more innocent areas, mainly his arms and back. No longer. He trailed his spread hand down that firm chest, the slight fuzz below his navel, and enfolded Josh's erection in the grip of his fingers. God, to be young again and that fucking hard. Like living stone, throbbing hot.

"Oh god!" Josh's eyes rolled back, his head went loose on his neck.

Grinning to himself, Joe caught the young man up before he fell and wedged him against the wall. Then, he decided, unlike their first night together when he'd asked Josh to beat off for him, he would give his lover the wank of his life.

It wasn't going to take long. Long steady pulls at first, then quicker. The writhing and moaning was real, but he could see Josh was holding back his sounds though he could no longer produce words. "Gonna make you come, Josh. Don't hold back. Scream if you want."

The gasping moans falling all around them changed to an unsteady keen as Josh gave in entirely, thrusting into Joe's fist. He started to shake. "Good, go on, let go. I haven't forgotten how you shot... so much... just unloaded."

Any second now. Joe's upper register was mainly screech back in the day. Josh's orgasm blasted his belly with fresh cream and his ears with a musical wail; both went on and on. It was barely seconds but time slowed as Joe traced all the appealing features with his gaze again. He realized he was rubbing up against Josh's flank and stopped himself before the ache in his balls took over. There was so much he wanted to do.

Josh had drained himself of breath and spunk for the moment. Easing off, Joe helped him stand on his own two feet. "We need to wash again. You made a mess on me," he said, mock-stern.

The look, so Josh in its combination of meanings, said the kid registered and ignored the tone, but was proud of what he'd done. "Get clean... to get dirty again," he quipped, quickly recovering. "Dude, your hair. It's gonna drip all over the bed."

"Dude," Joe repeated, "that's your job."


	3. It's Such a Magical Mysteria...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We're just gonna get messy again." It was a weak protest. Josh came to stand before Joe, the whites of his eyes showing like they'd never touched before.

Josh shot him a look that said he'd better facilitate the working. Once he was steady, he used his elbows to push off the wall to stand in front of Joe again, looking up at him. "Are you clean enough, or should I finish the job?" 

"Don't mind having your hands on me," Joe admitted. He'd noticed Josh's hands same as he'd noticed other pieces of him one at a time, parts of the sum total. The digits were long compared to the palms, blunt ends whose shapes reminded him of unclipped, unlit cigars. The index, middle, and ring fingers were nearly the same length. Fascinating, the way they moved, bent, gestured. Did this twin he'd mentioned have the same hands?

He hadn't really answered but Josh, a secretive little smile on his face, spread more shower gel around efficiently enough. Joe was fairly confident Josh was using it as a reason or excuse to touch him in ways not usually associated with 'bed': pushing the suds around in his chest hair again, curiously tracing a couple of his tattoos and the line down his belly, then Josh detoured all the way around his back and even dared to palm his bum, but quickly completed his journey to stand in front of the taller frontman again. Looking down, Joe watched the right hand, the gleaming nearly hairless little forearm, cross the space between them and curl around his upright length. His hips jerked. It had been a few days. He was overdue. 

"Jesus, Joe," breathed Josh, skimming his fingers over the tight skin. He tightened his grip, the next few motions stroking. Every move packed more hot blood into him, screaming nerve endings needing the attention and the care. 

"You've 'ad it in you, and I do believe you're back for more." 

"Yeah, but..." 

"No little girl ever told you how big you are? Not so different," chuckled Joe. His feet were slowly sliding apart. His instincts wanted to push. And he wanted those lips... "Want you to suck it." 

"Um yeah... when I was younger. The girls who try to get with us now are more experienced." The kid looked down at his own dick, on the rise again. 'Experienced', perhaps, thinking of the young man himself, but still so wholesome and healthy, like he'd only just been plucked from the Midwest sunshine to ride the underworld called The Road days before. His only outward nod to unconventional not taking his clothes into consideration were the tiny gold hoops in his earlobes. An act, possibly, but one Joe was willing to buy into while having his wood slowly buffed. 

So he nodded. It was an effort to speak with the hand, which knew what it was doing, sliding up and down, moving the inner silk of his foreskin up over the ridge of the crown and back. "When we first toured the US, we couldn't believe how forthright American women were, and that was, well never mind how long ago." He'd wondered before: whether any girls had lost their virginity under the Hysteria stage, or later, Adrenalize, though other than Rick they'd all hit thirty by then and had slowed down with the indiscriminate fucking-for-the-sake-of-it. He supposed he'd never know. When Josh reached out with his other hand to gather the mass of his balls for an attempt at rolling them, Joe groaned his earlier request again, a little more politely, perhaps. 

"I've never... and it's huge!" Josh blurted. An instant later he looked pissed off at himself for giving away too much. Joe watched his face retreat to a lower altitude as Josh knelt. His mouth hung half-open, panting for breath already. 

The visualization of his cock entering the "O" created of the kid's plush lips had him throbbing full-on, the little veins fluttering along the sides and the whole organ purple with trapped blood. Joe felt himself dripping pre-cum in anticipation of this totally inexperienced - that word again - mouth surrounding the head at least, and a tongue lapping up every bit of clear fluid. Then, a touch, of the smaller bow of Josh's lips as he kissed the tip, hand still wrapped around the shaft near the base. Joe moaned, loud. "More... do the best you can. Not gonna come in your mouth, saving that for when I fuck your sweet hole." 

Closing his eyes, those thick dark lashes splayed upon the border of his lower eye sockets, Josh moaned around him, choked. The vibration resonated through Joe's erection. He wouldn't be able take much of this, however inexpert. Lips surrounded him and tightened; a slick tongue pushed against the underside of the head. The sucking, slurping noises; Josh's other hand gripping his upper thigh - another rookie move, someone more experienced would have grabbed his hip or his balls - spiked Joe's libido. 

"Okay, lad... it's good, you can stop now." The suction increased, though Josh had only managed to swallow about half his full size and Joe's leaking little slit had lodged in the back of his throat. The kid was looking up at him, a challenge that said 'move and you'll have teeth to contend with'. But Joe had a few tricks of his own. He wiggled his index finger into Josh's mouth right beside his own member and prodded at molars till he was spat out. Though his maneuver took less than ten seconds, it was harrowing; the twin cores of his jewels throbbed like pulsars with the temptation to blast the kid's tonsils. 

"Why'd'ja do that?" asked Josh, bouncing with what seemed like no effort to his feet. 

A repeat recitation of his 60-year-old body's limitations not his idea of foreplay, the elder redirected, "Let's continue this in the bedroom." Rather than sulk, Josh looked decidedly eager. 

Joe shut off the shower and squeezed as much water as he could from his hair. He hid a grin as he watched Josh shake his drenched curls mostly free of water. Why were boys and puppies so similar? On the way out, they each grabbed one of the blinding-white towels. Well, Joe tucked his around his middle with his cock pointing straight up underneath. As an afterthought, he took another from the stack on countertop so he could personally rub Josh down, which he tried as he followed the dripping-wet young man, their feet leaving prints on the carpet. "Oh come on!" Josh laughed; he grabbed the towel out of Joe's hands. "I'm perfectly capable--"

"But I want to," Joe told him. He sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned his lover near. 

"We're just gonna get messy again." It was a weak protest. Josh came to stand before Joe, the whites of his eyes showing like they'd never touched before. Not much taller than Joe, seated, he let himself be dried. Towel, then fingers brushed over every part. Special attention paid to those with hair, to the muscle produced by strenuous workouts, and those with bits that grew taut and hard. In the shower, he'd seen but now Joe wordlessly took in the seriously 'modern' - as in, done neatly with a clipper - manscaping he was presented. Joe followed every hint, tracing Josh's ribs and his David muscle on each side, carefully weighing his balls, then pulling him close to press them together. 

The younger singer's arms went around him, too. His knees shook and he was arching and writhing under Joe's hands. "I... I think I need to lay down."

"Alright. Get up on the bed, get comfortable. Gimme a minute to find supplies." Although Joe didn't want to move away from the man he held, one of them had to act in their own best interests. Condoms and lube were never stored in hard-to-locate places, not on tour. In this case, it was as simple as the outer pocket of Joe's backpack. 

He fetched what was needed. When he turned around again, Josh was on his back on the bed, legs spread and bent at the knees, hands behind his head. That raised Joe's eyebrows, but only for a second as he saw opportunity. Tossing lube and a condom by Josh's thigh, he approached, still in his towel which now loosened enough so that it dropped to the floor after hanging from the end of his cock for a second, making him feel slightly ridiculous. Moving slowly from exhaustion and to give each of them a minute, Joe re-sat himself on the bed. He tried to think what he should say. This wasn't a groupie encounter. Nor was it the sort of release he indulged in with his bandmates, if very occasionally these days. 

In the end, Joe didn't say anything introductory - he crawled on top of Josh and let him take his weight through the hips. "Is that what you wanted, lad?" As Joe pressed closer, Josh's thighs widened. Looking down, he caught the warm brown eyes sizing him up again then returning to his face. 

"It's Josh." Both of their right hands, Joe propping himself on the other elbow, extended between them meeting around excited heat. 

"Hm?" 

"My name."

"Yes of course I know your name... Josh. I knew it before you heard mine. Josh," repeated Joe as he leaned down meeting the soft lips with his own. Josh flicked out his tongue and tipped his head back a little, even while keeping his eyes locked on Joe's. 

"So Josh," Joe brought his lips to the young man's cheek, thumb brushing over the head of his penis. The two of them together were more than a handful. He felt the jump of the young man's erection against his, a drop of slick glazing them. "Do you want to be taken apart, taken to heaven on me? Or should I suck you off... Joshua M. Kiszka?" He left out the full middle name, which struck him as too familiar for them, even now. 

It seemed like Josh's entire body spasmed. Strong thighs clamped around him; one arm threaded between Joe's arm and side pulled at him. The grip midway up his shaft tightened, too. "I want you in me," Josh told him hoarsely. "From behind. On my knees. Joe..."


	4. Get Closer (get closer), Closer to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was singing, too, after a fashion: gritty, much lower, more of a growl at the very end of this tour and subjected to desert air for three weeks.

They kissed again for an unknowable interval, with tongues and bodies and fingers gliding together. Joe had always liked when whoever he was with made a point of touching his hard-on. Some were too shy, even fearful. Josh ground against him and kept up with Joe's hand motions. It got to the point where both of them were thrusting with juddering hips; they needed to change position or spill the fluids built up. "Got so much... for you..." Joe whispered desperately. "Put the condom on me, will you? One last touch of your bare skin..." 

After a brief fumble to find the packet and tear it open, Josh spared a look at the words stamped on it. "Magnum... figured. Lubricated. Need that. Ultra thin..." Ultra white teeth flashed. Clever hands did the job, unrolling and stretching latex that meant they'd be safe. Wiggling his way out from under the shelter made by Joe's body, Josh flipped over and raised his haunches. "Bring me that dick."

From there, it was like time sped up and slowed down. On his knees, too, Joe was free now to put his hands all over that velvet skin. Back, shoulders, he ran his thumbs all the way down Josh's spine to his arse, where Joe took both cheeks in his hands. God, the shift of muscle and flesh... he needed to take, to render and perform. Like the show, but real, all too real and private. The bottle of lube rolled down to the dip in the mattress where his left knee was planted and Joe grabbed for it, uncapping it with his thumbnail. "Look at you, fucking look at you. Offering yourself... Josh." Even to his own ears, his voice sounded too high and tight. 

The kid moaned and arched, the message clear and he obliged. First anointing Josh with a generous layer, Joe coated three fingers. The first breach with the index finger never ceased to be a shock but Josh's voice ordered him, throaty, "More... please more," and he gave it till the way was open to that first digit. Then he went in a little at a time, first the middle, quite a stretch, then a little more with the ring finger. He'd done what he could till Josh relaxed enough. It got a little easier each time they met.

Dropping his head to the mattress, Josh exhaled loudly. The pressure eased enough to move his three fingers in and out a few times. Muted at first, Josh warmed up his vocal cords with short exclamatory bursts. It was easy to find his pleasure spot, easy to be motivated with a partner so responsive. Enough of this! Joe gripped his hips, admiring again that booty, so perfectly round. Long fingers went all the way around the sides of iliac crests, indenting soft skin over sinew over bone. "Alright, here we go, sing it out if you feel it...!" 

Josh giggled, his shoulders shaking. "Smoke 'em if you got 'em?" 

"Whatever gets you off..." Joe almost said 'lad' again, but finished, "Josh." 

Before his prepwork could be negated, Joe wedged himself in, and wiggled and pushed. Still it was work, and he enjoyed every inch of the squeeze as much as Josh, who let out a howl that the entire floor of the hotel probably heard. God! Heat and slick, and the cry of completely stuffed-full youngster who held so unearthly still as Joe sank in to the hilt. He could practically hear the spread. 

But he'd drawn it out almost too long already. His partner was young and his stamina, boundless, but Joe needed to do the job now or not at all. Not holding back, he fell into a semblance of the energetic rhythm of his own youth when most always, the action was fast and deep, initial penetration only the prelude to the thud-thud pounding of body-on-body. Finding his groove, a relief in the familiar, he let Josh have it and have him in the way he'd been doing it for forty-some years. His own physical response excited him more than any of their playful lead-up, truth be told. He could still get it up and make this little wild thing lose his mind. Under him, Josh was shrieking in time to his thrusts and Joe spared him a, "Y'alright, kid?" 

"Fuck me harder, goddammit Joe!!" Well alright then. Who was he to refuse? Joe clamped a hand around Josh's shoulder to lever him upright and pulled him down upon himself. The water drops falling from the wet ends of his hair ran down his back and the crack of his arse, enough distraction to hold off a little longer. Josh, he discovered upon reaching around, was wanking himself off. That wouldn't do. Joe took that over, too, though it was hardly necessary with the kid hanging off his dick already singing his wordless fuck-song and spurting through Joe's fingers and onto the otherwise fresh sheets. Looking down at strings of white shooting forth, he kept his hand skimming cream, smearing the hot mess. 

It was sheer vanity, but in that moment Joe liked to think his dick filled that little body full. Fuller, as he unleashed his seed. Tingling suffused his lower regions as orgasm hit him like being smashed into a wall, the feeling like his balls were overfilled with molten lava and then the eruption... He was singing, too, after a fashion: gritty, much lower, more of a growl at the very end of this tour and subjected to desert air for three weeks. 

Joe let the rhythmically contracting bands of muscle caress every drop from him. The condom caught it, of course. Maybe next meet-up they could explore in different ways, switch things up. For now, he was content to lay them down on their sides and kiss the back of Josh's neck below his tangled curls and tell him in a low voice, "There's no one like you, y'know." 

"Mm-hm..." As Joe slid out of him, Josh shuddered and turned around in his arms, spinning like laundry in a clothes dryer. Did his energy ever run out? The young man wiggled upwards so their faces were level, eyes flicking slightly back and forth to focus on each of Joe's irises. It could have been the lighting but his expression was inscrutable. "This - with you - is the best sex I've ever had. And... when you get into me so deep like that-" Joe could hear the double meaning, "-I feel like I'm totally at your mercy, but I don't mind. I trust you, Joe, lord knows why." Before Joe could phrase an answer or make a point on the subject of trustworthiness, Josh's attention side-skipped. "I'm thirsty." 

"No wonder, how much fluid did you just lose?" Joe laughed. "I know the feeling. There's still wine, I think. Bring it over here." 

Josh paused as if to think whether he'd obey the command, then did it. Meanwhile, Joe got himself cleaned up as discreetly as possible and they settled together. The bed was huge. They didn't exactly cuddle, but stayed within half an arm's length as at last, Josh laid his head on a pillow and his eyelids drifted down.


	5. That's Right, Dream Me Off My Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue... _Joe couldn't make himself shut the light off._

Joe couldn't make himself shut the light off. It was low wattage, didn't interrupt sleep - much. This softly breathing form at his side, no, he'd never tire of looking at Josh. It wasn't really fair, he knew, his fascination with youth and physical beauty. But it was more. He was drawn the person who inhabited that almost-too-perfect golden skin, too: his niceness and his temper, his imagination. The things he could do on stage. And in bed. 

Curled on his side, hotel-issue blanket thrown over the lower half of his body, Josh slept on. His hair was longer now than when they'd met. The mass of curls were a little sunbleached on the ends. If the online pictures meant anything, there'd been days at the beach, others camping in the woods. Leppard hadn't had many times like that, not till they were older; it had been work, work, work. Yet Joe didn't begrudge this kid and his band. It made him who he was. 

They wouldn't last, he knew that. This wasn't a long-term thing. They came from different worlds. He could appreciate the artform of Josh's band but wasn't delusional as to think that it ran the other way. Never had Josh asked him for professional advice, although there was the unspoken understanding that each of them was front and point with the bulk of the spotlight and attention - and pressure - turned on him. It just wasn't their thing. In another decade, this kid would be in his prime; Joe would definitely be old. 

But 'long' in terms of time was relative, and it had nothing to do with quality. Leppard's flight back to the UK didn't leave till midday, meaning they'd need to leave the hotel by noon. Meaning.... In the morning, there's be time for one more round between coffee and brekkie and the final check that all his personal belongings were packed. He'd better try to get some sleep. 

Joe turned to his other side and switched off the lamp. A warm, somnolent body snuggled behind him, a lithe arm thrown around his ribs. Joe nearly bolted awake when something more than firm prodded his arse. Bloody hell, again?! But Josh slept on. 

Fin.


End file.
